Rising Sun (Rewrite)
by Gingerxbug
Summary: She was alone again. In the middle of her honeymoon, Bella wakes up to a note left by Edward, saying he was leaving her - this time, for good. When she realizes she is pregnant during the whole ordeal, her whole world turns upside down. Fueled by her hurt and anger, she takes control of her life, and a hundred years later, she becomes the best hunter the Volturi could have.


PROLOGUE

It was a cruel joke. It had to be; what she was reading couldn't be possible. Not now, not after all this time; not after fighting their hardest for a life worth living. And yet, she couldn't deny how much it made sense. Bella Swan had finally gotten her wish, and in the back of her mind, she always knew it was a wish too good to have.

She couldn't believe what she read. The words, written in that familiar fancy scripture she had grown accustomed to, blurred together. Looking unusually messy and jumbled, it might have been easy to pretend it didn't exist, that it was all a nightmare. But, as much as she tried to forget, the words were burned into her mind.

_I am leaving you. _

The piece of parchment dropped from her grasp, fluttering down to the floor and landing at her feet with a silent thump. Bella stared at her empty, limp hand, body frozen and numb as tears slowly welled in her eyes. One by one they dropped onto her cheeks, followed by quiet sniffles as she tried to comprehend the situation.

She couldn't though. Edward was gone.

This time was different though. This time – _the last time_, he had written – the bastard had left her stranded on Isle Esme, right off the coast of South America in the middle of their honeymoon no less. She was completely alone, and would be until the cleaning crew came for their weekly rounds. There was no way off the island, except to call them and pray someone who knew English answered. Bella couldn't just drive back to her father's home, or even seek refuge on the reservation.

No. She was stuck.

Even if she did go home, what would happen? Just married, only to return without her husband; that would certainly go over well with everyone. What would they say, I told you so? They had the right to, after all. She should have listened to them to begin with.

A laugh, one so pathetic it sounded like a sob, escaped her lips. Bella felt so stupid, so vulnerable and gullible. She knew better than to believe him. He didn't love her.

Her body took control. It was like a reflex, her mind complete detached to all of her limbs and actions. She grabbed the closest thing to her, a vase that must have belonged to Esme, and launched it in no particular direction. It felt natural, along with the guttural scream that came from her small frame; the pain and agony she felt was so raw and clear, that she could almost hear her heart break all over again.

There was nothing left this time though.

Before she knew it, the room was covered in broken glass and ceramics. Bella had grabbed anything and everything she could get her hands on and completely destroyed their bedroom. It was on instinct, wanting to cause as much damage as she felt, but none of it had made her feel better. When she finally collapsed onto the floor, her face buried in her scratched up palms, she just felt weak and drained. All she could do for now was cry and grieve.

A few hours had passed until her whimpers and sobs had quieted, leaving her a puffy tear-stained mess. Her throat had gone dry from the constant screaming, and the dryness had made it hard to swallow as she felt it close and stick. Feeling dehydrated, Bella forced herself to get up, leaving the mess and the letter as it was, and went to the kitchen to get water. It was a wobbly walk, with her eyes so swollen and the odd feeling in her legs, but she made it through the halls with minimal tripping. It would have been impressive if she didn't feel so rotten.

Bella tried to ignore the emptiness surrounding her as she pulled a bottle from the fridge. Part of her expected to turn around and find the whole Cullen Brood with smiling faces yelling _surprise!_ That wouldn't happen and she kept reminding herself that, even as it got harder to take as she swallowed. It was her new reality. They weren't coming back this time.

She gasped as the cold water began to hurt and put the bottle down. Staring up at the ceiling, she wondered what he even excepted her to do. Knowing Edward, he probably expected her to just pack up her things, go home, and move on, just like the first time… but then again, how much did she really know him if he just left her here all alone?

"Maybe he thought you'd die," she muttered to herself as she paced around the marble island. The anger was bubbling again, but Bella had nothing to do with that rage. She could destroy the house as much as she wanted but it wouldn't do her any good except wear her out. It was no skin off their backs; they could just rebuild it once she was long gone. That didn't help her much, though; what was she supposed to do with herself now? Cry while her world crashed and burned around her?

"I need a drink."

They were bound to have some kind of alcohol around the house. It was no secret that the Cullens would have no need for alcohol, and they had all believed Bella was pretty straight edge, but they had to keep up their appearances somehow. And who would believe a group of young adults would have their own island and no drop of alcohol? Especially so close to Rio? None of them were that dumb, even with Carlisle's religious background.

She searched the cabinets top to bottom, tearing it to shreds with a desperate urge. The tears were gone for now, and the anger was replaced with frustration as she searched for the only relief she could think of. When it was obvious there wasn't any in the kitchen, she moved to the pantry. As she looked around, part of her wondered if there was a service that would deliver it to the island. Right then though, she pulled open a back cabinet and found the treasure spot. There, behind one of the bottom doors hidden away, were several bottles of old, expensive liquor.

Carlisle wouldn't miss it much, she told herself as she pulled the first bottle of whiskey. It was the least he could do, allowing her to drink away the pain his 'adoptive son' had caused her.

Bella pulled away several bottles and laid them out on the island to display her choices. Each looked better than the one before it, and she could see a painless, fantasy reality in each one.

"Screw mourning," she said and opened the first bottle. It was time to be someone else.

There had been a specific moment where Bella realized she could handle her liquor a bit more than she expected, but by that time, she had lost count of how many shots she had taken. It was probably too many too soon but she felt good. She felt free. She felt nothing.

Giggling at absolutely nothing, she grabbed the bottle of whiskey and waddled through the house. Still clumsy as ever, the alcohol did absolutely nothing to help her coordination but whenever she fell or bumped into something, the pain wasn't there. So it was good for something, even if the bruises would serve as a reminder.

It was like rediscovering the house all over again. She barely remembered where anything was and seemed to find fascination in new things. In the living room, Bella found the giant stereo and surround-sound system. It was a goldmine, and because Edward had been oh so kind, all of her favorites were hooked up through an iPod jack. She didn't want favorites, though; she wanted anything but something she knew already.

Fumbling through the buttons, she scanned satellite stations until she found an upbeat pop station. The song was exciting and loud, pulsing through the walls and her head until she felt her heart's rhythm change to match. It was exactly the type of music she would have hated back home and that was why she loved it so much now. Turning it up loud enough that it could be heard across the island. When Bella was satisfied, she went back to investigating, destroying anything that looked somewhat personal with a wicked, drunken smile.

When the sun was down and the moon was high over the tropical paradise, Bella found herself wandering around the beach with a new bottle. She had paused only a little to drink some water and munch on tasteless food but as soon as she felt the heartbreak and anger creep back in, she decided to see how she liked the taste of vodka on the sand. She danced wildly, laughing and singing into the night with reckless abandon. It was her world now. Her world was safe from the asshole who tried to destroy it.

No one could hurt her anymore. Not here. Not now.

The days were an endless repeat.

Sun comes up. Drink. Sober up. Cry a little. Drink. Scream at the noon heat. Drink. Throw up in the bushes. Toss the bottle into the ocean. Sing and Dance. Drink.

Everyday. It was a wonder she didn't have alcohol poisoning yet.

On the fourth day though, Bella had worn herself thin. She woke up on the beach, skin hot and pink from the sun and sand in the most uncomfortable places. Vomit was dried and flaking on her cheek, and she had the worst taste in her mouth, like something had crawled in there when she was asleep and died.

With her luck, something probably had.

The tears started before she had sat up, and it wasn't even with the thought of Edward or her precious Cullens, just the fact that she felt so bad. There wasn't really a word to describe exactly how she felt, but it didn't surprise her. She had basically tortured herself the past few days.

Pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, she whimpered as her head spun. Bella told herself she was probably still drunk, just without all the fun parts, but reason and logic had no place in her mind right now. She just wanted to throw all of her insides up and hope the pain ended soon. It wouldn't though. It'd only get worse.

Somehow she had it back inside without killing herself. It was a miracle, especially with how she couldn't concentrate with her head throbbing so bad. The music was still turned up all the way and it felt like someone was hammering a nail through the side of her head. In a way, she wished that had been happening; at least there would be a peaceful ending.

Once the music was off and she had some silence, Bella made the way towards the bedroom, only stopping to grab another bottle from the kitchen. She knew it was dumb; any more alcohol at this point would be useless and just add to her problems. That's what smart Bella would say.

Smart Bella wasn't home right now.

She couldn't look at the bed once she was in the room. She knew exactly what would happen if she did, because it was already starting despite the struggle of keeping her eyes away. Bella just pictured that one special night, where everything seemed okay; the night where her husband, her lover and self-proclaimed mate, made love to her the first time. She could see every fine, sensuous detail, hear every pleasure filled sound. It was torture, and made her vomit faster than the alcohol had. Luckily she made it to the trash bin in time. It would have been a pain trying to walk around the mess if she didn't find the motivation to clean it up.

The bathroom seemed to be the one room untouched by her drunken rampage, which, in a way, Bella was thankful. It was serene, with its blues walls, cream floor, and white fixtures. It was like being outside again, without the blistering heat and grainy sand.

She put the bottle of brandy down and turned on the water, letting a rush of cool liquid splash her skin as she plugged up the drain. A bath sounded wonderful; even smashed she knew how disgusting she felt. Bella could even smell herself. Between the vomit and the alcohol soaked sweat, it was a wonder how that in itself didn't make her sick.

It was a chore to peel off the gross pajamas but once they were deposited on the floor and she had settled in the bath, Bella felt a bit better. Of course, she was on her way to drinking herself unconscious, but the rush of coolness felt amazing on her skin. With her head back and arms at her side, she reclined to float back blissfully into her world of nothingness.

Nothing. That was what she had now. No husband, who she had changed her life and values to fit around to please and keep. And because of him, she had lost so much more. Her friends, who had thought she was jumping the gun too fast. Her father, who had lost touch with his daughter because of all the drama she had put him through because of Edward. Her mother, who she had chosen to leave and started this whole mess. Her best friend, a werewolf who tried to prove he'd love her better; Bella couldn't deny the attraction but in the end, there was nothing to it. He was just her best friend and she had chosen a vampire over him.

She could start fresh but what would she do? Bella had spent little to no time preparing for the rest of her adult life because it wasn't supposed to exist. She was planning on giving up her life to immortality, and her main concern was how she would deal with the constant blood lust, not where she would go to college and what career she would work towards, no matter how much he tried to force her to wait.

It all seemed pointless now. She couldn't picture a life for herself anymore, and that in itself hurt more than her whole situation. That's what made the tears come harder this time. She had nothing to live for now, nothing to work for and go home to. There was nothing in this world for her.

The sobs came as hard as they did the first day as hopelessness blanketed her. Her chest ached as she struggled to breathe through her cries. Bella found herself begging for help – for guidance, for love, for something. Something had to bring herself out of this. The first time he had left, she had someone to pick up the pieces for her. There was no one this time. No one was going to hurt her.

A reflection of light caught her attention out of the corner of her eye. Wiping away the tears, she leaned out of the tub to see what it was, and froze when she realized what exactly was in front of her. It was a wedding gift to Edward from Phil: an old fashioned straight razor, engraved with her husband's name and their wedding date. Either he didn't want it or he had forgotten it, but there it was, right on the sink, unsheathed with its metal blade reflecting the sun.

Like fate had put it there.

Bella swallowed hard as she stared at it. It was the alcohol and the lack of hope talking, but she swore she could hear the blade whisper to her. _Use me_, it murmured to her; _it's over_.

_You can do it, Bella. _

It was like karma had dealt her this hand itself. The first time he left, it was her perceived suicide that had driven him to Italy to try and join her. It was that that brought them back together, where he admitted he couldn't live without her in this world. And yet here she was, just on the verge of taking herself out of the picture. Because she believed him. Because she gave him everything.

She played with the blade in her hand after taking another gulp. A million different thoughts raced through her mind. If she went through with this, what would happen? Sure, the world wouldn't end but how would everyone else feel? Her parents, her friends, Jake and the wolves, maybe the other Cullens if they found out. Alice had to see by now her fate.

The phone didn't ring this time though.

Her head was filled with ideas of people not caring. She had distanced herself from everyone enough that they would heal. They didn't need her anymore. They would move on and the world would continue.

Her story was done.

Bella cried out as she pressed the blade to her wrist. The metal was cooler than the water and bit into her skin the harder she pressed. It just made her whine harder, because it was taking so much effort and time. When her skin separated and a few red droplets spilled onto her skin, she couldn't breathe.

Pressing harder, Bella stared ahead at the bare wall to distract herself and gather her motivation. She just wanted it to end. She wanted the pain and the anger and the hopelessness to go away. She wanted to die.

It just hurt too much.

_Wait_.

Her body froze when she felt it. So light and subtle, she wondered if she was just imagining it; Bella certainly had enough alcohol in her system to hallucinate the energizer bunny if she wanted. But when she felt the small, gentle prodding against her stomach, somehow she knew. It was real.

"What the hell?" she whispered as she glanced down. Though the water was pretty murky, she could see well enough that nothing was in the tub with her. Her hands had been busy, and her legs had been out straight. There was nothing remotely close to her torso, making her all the more curious.

Bella stood in the tub slowly, the water running off her body and taking some of the crud with it. There were a few short moments where she had to grab hold of the window frame off to her right but once her head stopped spinning, she was good to stand on her own. Her hands drifted over her stomach, expecting to find the usual soft, somewhat squishy flesh. Instead, she was surprised when she felt her abdomen taunt and firm. It was like running her hand over a skin covered rock.

All but stumbling out of the water, the young brunette slipped and slid her way towards the mirror. If the situation was much different, Bella would have laughed when she imagined herself looking like a newborn fawn walking for the first time, but now wasn't the time. She needed to see herself.

At that point, Bella wished mirrors lied. Saying she looked like hell was an understatement. She hardly looked like herself; between the wild, matted hair and the lifeless eyes, her appearance made her feel like a shell. Adding in the sullen cheeks, the painfully pink skin, and the overgrowth of hair on certain parts of her body, she knew this wasn't who she was. But that wasn't what got her…that wasn't what brought tears to her eyes.

Right between her hips was a bump – a small but clearly defined, visible bump.

"That's impossible," Bella whimpered. No matter how she twisted and turned, the bump was still there. She wasn't imagining it.

As her hand laid over it, she felt it poke her again, only this time it stayed. Like it knew she needed comfort. Like it could feel her pain.

Bella slid to the floor, landing with a quiet thump as she leaned back against the vanity doors. Her eyes never left the mirror and her hand never left her stomach. Tears fell onto her cheeks one by one as her fingers stroked the marble-like skin. Somehow, a smile crossed her lips.

She wasn't alone. Not really.

* * *

Hey guys! Long time no see - it's been a hot minute. Life just got into the way and mental health has been a struggle. I decided that I was going to rewrite Rising Sun because me as a person (and therefore as a writer) have changed over the years and I decided to see how I would go about the story.

Also... I am looking for a beta reader. I figured having someone to hold me accountable will help me get over the hump of not writing. If you are interested, let me know.


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